mmexlibris: (Default)
Pick a character I write, and I will give you the top five ideas/concepts/other I keep in mind while writing that character that I believe are essential to depicting them accurately. This includes both original characters and characters about whom I write fanfic.

from [livejournal.com profile] ceitfianna 

mmexlibris: (Default)
Ask me about any character I RP or write, and I will pick one of the following and tell you:

(a) Three facts about them from my personal fanon.
(b) Two reasons they're amazing.
(c) Five things that I'd like to see happen to them.
(d) Three people that I might ship that character with and why.
or
(e) If I don't know the character or the fandom, I will make something up.
Original stuff and AUs always okay!


Headvoice list here.  (Voices not listed: Severus Snape, Mary Shannon (In Plain Sight), Mama Lujo.)
mmexlibris: (42)
Gif spam ahead

A tale of woe as yet resolved told by animated kittens )So if you have awesome gifs (related or otherwise) or awesome links or awesome news, please tell me what's going right in your life.  This is really starting to do my head in.  
mmexlibris: (you are here)
CAN IT BE JULY NOW PLEEEEEEASE?


mmexlibris: (Default)


Project Valour-IT
, in memory of SFC William V. Ziegenfuss (Captain Chuck Ziegenfuss' father), provides voice-controlled software and laptop computers to wounded Soldiers, Sailors, Airmen and Marines recovering from hand and arm injuries, amputations, eye or brain injuries, at major military medical centers. Operating laptops by speaking into a microphone, our wounded heroes are able to send and receive messages from friends and loved ones, surf the 'Net, and communicate with buddies still in the field without having to press a key or move a mouse.

Read more here.  Donate here.

mmexlibris: (Mways Bryan Mills)
From yesterday's DE
Prompt from
[livejournal.com profile] sardonicynic 
† Mills, laconic:  He doesn't like this feeling.  

He doesn't like this feeling.

This odd sensation of being the only person awake in a room full of sleep walkers. It's perpetual, these days, only alleviated by Veronica's presence. He worries that he's not built for retirement, that he'll always be darting at shadows, always be checking where people's hands are and how they carry their weight.

He knows he has to check himself, check the finely honed edge that has become his entire being. He doesn't like feeling like he's always in the holster, safety on. Peace bound.

But he can live with it. For Veronica. For Kim.

And maybe, when the weather's good and he can hear people laughing, maybe he can do it for himself.

mmexlibris: (A2A alex)
From yesterday's DE
Prompt from
[livejournal.com profile] fightingthecage : 
† Alex/Gene: Fury.


He makes it seem so effortless, the way he snatches them up by the collar and smashes his forehead into the bridge of their nose. He hefts them by nape and belt and flings them against the side of the Quattro like they weigh nothing. He uses his fists to smash and smash and smash until their faces look like hamburger, and his knuckles are cut to ribbons.

And even as she cringes at the brutality, she envies him that unrefined rage, that brilliant savagery.

She dreams, twisting and turning, tangled in her sheets, and she can't lash out at that bullet, slowly spiralling through the air towards her. She can't throw punches at the never ending loop of film, that same fireball blossoming slowly, unfurling towards the sky. She can't even see the enemy, the force that took her away from her daughter, much less grab it by the lapels and slam it up against the lockers, or push it face first down into the bog.

She only has her mind. Her memories, her rational powers of analysis, her reason. She only has her heart and her will to carry her through this ordeal. And every time she watches him sweep across the chequerboard floor, every time she watches him settle into his usual table, every time he looks at her...

Her fury falters, diminished. She feels the ashes of her memories sift through her fingertips, scattered to the winds.

Whose birthday was it today?
mmexlibris: (Mways Fi)
From yesterday's DE
Prompt from [livejournal.com profile] spooky_lemur 

† Fiona: Fiona; childhood memories that keep us going.


She was nine when her Da first put a cricket bat in her hands. It was too big for her to grip properly, so he whittled it down and rewrapped it with waxed linen cord. He showed her how to set her feet at shoulder's width, showed her how to aim for the temple or the outside of the knee cap, but only if she had too.

When she was thirteen, he showed her how to grip the neck of a beer bottle, empty preferably. They don't break as easily. And make sure your hands are tacky, makes it easier to keep that grip. He didn't have to show her where to throw a knee or an elbow. She grew up with six brothers and learned that key information early on.

When she was fifteen, he taught her how to layer nails and broken glass into the capped pipe, how to cut the fuse and thread it through to the primer.

When she was twenty four, his ghost stood at her elbow as she held her mother, listening to Seamus tell them what happened to Claire. His voice whispered to her, telling her she knew what to do. She knew just what to do to set this to rights.
mmexlibris: (Mways River Song)
From yesterday's DE
Prompt from
[info]sardonicynic
 : 
† River : screwdriver ; "Could you hand me that, please?"


"Could you hand me that?"

"What, this?"

"No, silly. The other..." She waves a hand, impatiently.

"This?"

"No. Look if you want this fixed, you're going to have to... What are you doing?"

"Nothing!"

"..."

"Well, maybe a little... Something."

"Oh really. I thought you wanted to mmf."

"..."

Something trilled and whirred, and a hand fumbled up above the console, blindly punching a button and turning a dial until the noise stopped.
mmexlibris: (Mways Olga)
From yesterday's DE
Prompt from
[info]sardonicynic
 : 
† Olga : ancient ; She can't explain what it's like -- it just is, formless and forever.


She can't explain what it is -- it just is, formless and forever. The shadow at her shoulder, its cool kiss felt along her long bones, woven deep into the fabric of her consciousness. It is curse and comfort, simultaneously.

In the beginning, it haunted her, paced her along the muddy streets of her village, hunted her along the wooded paths back to the low cottages of her family's homestead. Black fingers of silvery darkness, catching at the hems of her skirts, tangling in her long hair. Calling to her in soft whispers, alluring and terrifying.

And then a man came, and paid good coin to take her away, ostensibly to serve as a maid to some noble woman. He showed her how to face the Gloom, how to draw it around her like a cloak, how to move into the folds and gathers of it, and within that void, how to travel vast distances. He showed her how to draw it into herself, to tap the well of strength within.

Now, it is simply a part of her. She breathes and it moves through her veins. She carries it with her always, and it is never far away from her grasp. The Gloom is the first door she ever entered into this world, and it will be the last threshold she crosses when she finally decides to leave it
mmexlibris: (hee)
I am ridiculously pleased with how this came out. Click to see the whole set.
The Kiss - Max Ernst
mmexlibris: (Default)
- Kitchen, cleaned.
- New anode, scoured.  Will try to wire it up tonight.
- Tumbler located.
- Bar stock cut into one inch sections.  Glory hallelujah to the bolt cutters from hell.
- Located more thin gauge copper for dog tags.
- Sample tumbled some of the copper slugs for half an hour.  Decided they still need a hit with the belt grinder before they go into the scrub again.
- Also decided that 36 slugs is too many.  Went back later and weighed them all in both hands again.  Decided 36 slugs is doable.  Need a canvas casting cloth though. Researching casting methods, beginning to write out definitions.

Also, for anyone doing NaNoWriMo this year, I found some brilliant tarot spreads for writers/artists.
- A Simple Spread For A Story.
- Plot: For Writers With Writer's Block.
- Goal, Conflict, Motivation.
mmexlibris: (Default)
[tappita tappita tappita]  Dear Diary,

Today it is hot.  Much hotter than it has been all summer long.  So hot in fact, that it's too hot.   I did clean the kitchen, but I was wiping sweat out of my eyes the whole time.  We don't have AC here, because we only need it a few weeks a year, but man, I sure miss it today.

The cats seem to think there's a mouse in the lower cabinets.  Callie even tried to crawl in there while I was standing right there.  One of today's projects is to make a humane trap, but they've multiplied so fast over the last few weeks, I think we may have to put down real traps soon.  Diary, I am not happy about this, but I don't want mice in my wool stash, so...

I have re-tidied the kitchen after a week of little or no care, because we were both down with the ick.  Wolf had a diagnosis of 'Acute Respiratory Infection' and got antibiotics.  I kept ahead of mine with Vitamin C and kitchen witchery: heavily spiced honey vodka tea.  Hey, don't knock it.  It works.  I'm feeling much more human today, and should probably think about lunch here in a few.

I hennaed my hair this morning, first time in over a year, and I forgot how much I like it this colour. 

And I've prepped another etching tank, this one with a sealable lid, so that the solution shouldn't evaporate as quickly (yay, salt crystals).  Unfortunately, it means I have to prep another anode as well, and while I've scrubbed some inferior plates clean, my hands are all dried out and cranky from the acetone now.  I have Gold Bond intensive care lotion upstairs, but it's like -- a gazillion degrees up there.  Yes, first world problems.

And I spent most of last night hashing out the alchemical characters I want to use for my 'rune' set.  Now I just have to write up a little pamphlet on the Great Work as a divination tool, and figure out if I want to include a throwing cloth to go with.  Also, I have to chop up some copper bar stock for the 'runes' themselves (got to figure out something else to call them), and then dig out the tumbler.   Dunno how this is gonna work, but that's what test pieces are for, yes?  Also, I have easels to bend for the plates I've already etched, and I need to experiment with a torch to see what kind of patina I can get, but with the heat today?  That can wait a few weeks.

We heard from the bank that the merry go round is still going on the house.  And my federal unemployment benefits haven't kicked in yet, but I think (I hope) I have enough in savings to cover in the gap.  (This is not counting the ungodly amount that's in there from where I emptied out my IRA as a down payment on the house.  That is not for touching, alas.)

And that's all I can think of for now, Diary.  The cats are well.  My mom is doing well, having seen her doctor post-op, and having dealt with some minor complications.  She's home and as happy as -- well, as happy as anyone who is so bent on being miserable can be. 

I think lunch is in order, as my brain just ran out of words.  Until the next time.

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